


Inexplicable Surrender

by sequence_fairy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mild D/S undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 19:37:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sequence_fairy/pseuds/sequence_fairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And he can’t quite ascertain where this desire to submit has come from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inexplicable Surrender

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've written for Sherlock that I've been remotely happy with. Please enjoy.

“Down,” the voice is deep, dark and full of promise. It sends a thrill of warmth to his gut, dismantling the last vestiges of his defiance and he sinks to the floor, sitting back on his heels, hands upturned on naked thighs. He cannot suppress the tremor that shudders through him at the twist of a hand, long-fingered and deceptively strong, in his hair. His scalp twinges and he drops his head forward, exposing his neck. The grip in his hair changes to a caress and he cannot help but sigh in contentment as the hand presses his head to a trouser-clad thigh, fabric soft against his cheek.

There is a low, rumbling laugh from somewhere above him, and the hand drops to the nape of his neck, gently squeezing. Sherlock steps away and John is left, on his knees, in the middle of the living room floor. He doesn’t raise his head, keeps his eyes trained on the carpet in front of him, but he can sense Sherlock’s movements, hears the brush of fabric as he strips and the soft pads of his footsteps as he moves from the living room to the bedroom off the hall and then back again. 

John shivers, trying to suppress his anticipation. Sherlock has laid out the rules for the game today and John’s arousal is not part of the scene until much later. John breathes deeply through his nose, acutely aware of the tickle of the carpet fibers against his shins. Kneeling for Sherlock was never something John had expected, and not something he would ever think to enjoy. 

Control is such an intimate part of him, the careful, precise movements during a delicate surgery, the economy of movement in a fight, and John can’t quite ascertain where this desire to submit has come from. 

Sherlock, as if sensing that John’s mind has wandered from the task at hand, grips the back of his neck firmly. John’s mind empties of all thought, and under the gentle pressure of Sherlock’s hand, he bows forward. The muscles in John’s back bunch and shiver as Sherlock’s hands sweep down his flanks, and back up to his neck. John feels pleasantly disconnected from everything but the feather-light touch of Sherlock’s hands on his skin.

“Are you ready John?” Sherlock asks, and the hint of command in his voice sends a bolt of heat to John’s core. 

“Yes,” John manages, voice already thick with desire “yes, I’m ready.”


End file.
